When Diplomacy Fails…

CHAPTER 9

Franklin Lezt was nervous, and tense. Things like this risked more than one’s job. His appointment arrived, and as soon as the door closed, he tapped on the security field. That and a random hotel should mean they were safe. The heavy drapes were closed, and there was a screen taped to the window as well.

“It’s helping her ratings!” he said. They both knew which it and whom this was about.

Will Hepgard was not the man’s real name. It would do for now. He was too calm as he said, “It’s not an ideal result.”

Lezt tried not to be too uncalm.

“Ideal? The idea was to either disgrace her with photos of her covered in Eco Party green paint or eggs, or have criminal charges against her or those thugs.” They’d spent a lot of money on this. He needed results. He paced around the suite. Then he grabbed a beer. He’d be damned if he wasn’t going to get something positive out of this. He pointed at the well. Hospitality helped.

Hepgard said, “And it didn’t work.”

What a revelation, he thought. “I fucking know it didn’t work!”

“We still have time.” Hepgard reached in, took a beer, thumbed off the lid.

The man was infuriatingly calm, but then, he had half the considerable money already.

Lezt said, “She’s at twenty-three points. We have to peg her back down below twenty or we lose the advantage we paid for.”

Did Hepgard know the significance of thirty points in the polls? Possibly not. So steer away from that.

Hepgard leaned against the wall, clearly wanting a chair. He wasn’t large, but he was soft. He did all his work with terminals and phones.

“We will. We can do some promotion here on Earth, too. And another thought: Her trip splits both her office and her campaign. Can we arrange something embarrassing around her office?”

Lezt said, “Are you kidding? Jaekel’s the real worker. All Highland offers is guidelines, and she can do that just fine from there. It’s probably running smoother without her nitpicks.” Was that useful info to share? Or too useful?

Hepgard nodded and leaned back. “Okay, so we need to focus on her campaign.”

“And besides us, Hunter’s people are about to jizz their pants over her being away. He’s plowing money into ad loads to get a good lead now.”

“A shame that’s all going to fall apart when word gets out.”

“A shame. The week before the election, too.”

Hepgard shook his head. “You like that too much. I want to do it sooner. A month out. That gives time for him to try to justify it, and for all the inquiries to build. Then we have professional outrage people to be outraged. Unless your boss is set on the last minute?”

Lezt sighed. “Look, I’m telling you way too much on this. The SecGen is not the sharpest spoon on the rack. Nor is he the most determined. He’d probably object, and he’d certainly let word slip to someone. They might or might not reveal it, but we’re not telling him. You know Ingo makes most of the decisions, yes?”

“I knew he made recommendations.”

“That’s the official story. No, he’s the brains. Cruk is a pretty face, but too emotional.”

“Is that why he has two types of speeches?”

“Yes, the ones that piss people off are his own cute creations. The ones that sway people are written by a professional who Ingo hired. And we’re not talking about this anymore. What can you arrange on embarrassment?”

“Some amusing ads. I can even pin them on Hunter. Then use her money.”

That was interesting. “Hah. I like that a lot. Do it, and make sure this one works.” Damn, he’d finished a beer already.

Hepgard nodded confidently. “It will. Even if she has a boost now, it’ll all add up to a decline later.”

It was dangerous to meet in person, but there was no way such an issue would ever get discussed over any kind of connection.

“Good. But we need both short term and long term. Trends.”

“I’ll be on it. Thanks for the beer.” Hepgard took one healthy swallow and set the rest of the bottle down.

As the door closed again, Lezt considered. Hepgard could probably pull it off. He’d done a good job with the Eisington campaign, if you measured good jobs by dismal failures that everyone followed in amusement. But just in case, there was another source.

“Yeah, those specialists. They are very good at keeping someone alive, yes?”

“Absolutely. They’ve never lost a patient.”

“Good. Then I want them to proceed. There are going to be casualties, and I wouldn’t want them to die.”

“They’re on site already, of course.”

“Yes, get them in play. Someone’s life is at stake.”

Or would be, very soon.

Jason looked through the inventory to see what they could offer to Das as a diplomatic gift. They’d certainly share intel that would help the military if it wouldn’t hinder them. Ammo or weapons wouldn’t matter, nor most logistical items. Though they did have some sanitized handguns. Those could make useful dump guns for officially unarmed technicians or support troops. They could even be presented casually enough. Three of those, then.

What about staging their own fake attack and having Elke volunteer to help? But that was complicated, deceitful and risky. He had no qualms about cheating, but their position with Das was improved if Das could trust them more than others.

Unmarked bullion and cash. They could spare some, but it would have to clearly be “logistics” and not “cash bribe.” He’d work on that.

Could they spare some tracking units? They had several, and planned to consume/abandon/destroy them as they went. If they could get more in a timely fashion, those would work. Good.

He was jarred from his planning by Elke’s voice.

“We need to talk.”

“Yes, what do you need?”

“My explosives. Did you not know they were canceling my request?” She was agitated, almost fidgeting.

“I put in the request. Alex put in the request. They said they were approving the weapons. They didn’t specifically mention explosives.”

“When did you know this?”

“I knew we didn’t have them when we left Earth. They were supposed to catch up. At no point did they refuse.” He’d gotten every indication the order was in process.

“And here?”

“Nothing in the crates, and no inventory or request mentioning them. Black hole.”

She said, “You knew the ROE, though. That they weren’t allowing explosives other than very small charges for demolition on the controlled range only.”

“Elke, I did not know that, at all. I’ve heard nothing on limits.”

She stared, he stared.

He wondered now. They’d both been given different stories. “So, they lied to us about the availability, or rather, deliberately concealed the information. And lied to me about rules of engagement. Just a moment.” He thumbed his phone.

“Intel, Captain Das.”

“Jason, Jason.”

“Hi, Jason,” Das replied, sounding cheerful enough.

“Can you confirm for me the military ROE with weapons?”

“Yeah, patrol commander key for nonlethal release. Lethal weapons require shift commander approval from here. Support weapons restrained for two minutes, then only by shift commander approval. The colonel can release earlier on personal authority. Explosive munitions restricted to artillery, Aerospace Force air assets, and Special Operating Units or allied equivalents, which we agree means you.”

“Thanks. Just needed to confirm.”

“Understood.”

He clicked off.

Elke said, “So the military would allow us to do whatever BuState authorizes, as is proper. Meaning Highland’s people blocked the shipment.”

“Can we ask her to intercede?”

“Please don’t,” Elke said.

“No?”

“No. I and Aramis shall make a shopping expedition.”

He thought that over. They needed Elke, but they also needed her with best gear. Aramis needed to stash more stuff, too. They’d fill in temporarily.

He said, “I’ll clear it with Alex. Go.”

Aramis was still a bit surprised that Elke trusted him that much. Serving together seemed to have smoothed out their differences. She was a disturbing flake, but incredibly good at her job, certainly courageous, and tough enough.

The vehicle they were in was a combination truck and passenger escort vehicle, with an improved chassis. It would handle rubble just fine. It wasn’t a track, and it wasn’t proof against anything above pistols. Still, they hoped to blend in enough. Their clothes were generic unless one looked closely at the armor thread, and no one should notice one vehicle of thousands. As war-torn as this hole was, it was still much richer than Celadon had been, or still was.

“I find religion useful,” Elke said.

“Oh? Are you religious?”

“Not very. I am nominally Lutheran through my grandmother. I was christened, and I have been to a friend’s church wedding.”

“So what’s useful?”

“Half of the people here are either rabidly worshiping today, or pretending to. The other half will worship on Sunday, or prepare to.”

“Except for the ones on Earth’s clock, who will worship at two random times next week.”

“And those few extremists who will worship on Tuesday, and the splitters from them who will use Earth Tuesday.”

“It’s also near shift change for the military.”

“Oh, how convenient,” she said, failing to hide her smile.

“So how do you plan to do this?”

“The really old fashioned way,” she said.

“Shoot someone and take it?”

She shook her head. “Sadly, no. We shall bribe them far too much. These Grainne coins and a small amount of gold will attract plenty of attention.”

“That’s potentially a problem.”

“It is for the person attempting to cash them in, which will not be us.”

“Ah, enough to get them to say ‘yes,’ not enough to point at us, but too much for them to easily dispose of.”

“And unmarked to us.”

He checked the map-printed map, so it couldn’t be tracked by anyone, though there were still ways to follow the vehicle. Jason assured him the module on the dash would fuzz and distort their location so they’d be only very generally locatable.

“Left here,” he said. He saw what lay ahead and added, “and forward.” There were police set up near the building. He wasn’t going to stop.

“It would make sense,” she said, “that a warehouse selling precursor chemicals would have a police post, on this planet.”

“What next?”

“Vehicle store, pharmacy, standard hardware store.”

He looked around at the business signs. “This way seems to be lighter industrial and commercial.”

Another five kilometers found all types of stores. Elke grabbed a paper pad, printed very rapidly, and handed him a list.

“You are working on a swimming pool for a wealthy client,” she said.

“Understood.”

Inside, he felt nervous about the amounts in question, but piled them on a dolly and nudged it into motion. It followed him.

“Hydrochloric acid,” he said.

“Aisle Three R,” it replied in passable English, though the accent was both simulated and British with an overlay of Turk.

“Chlorine pool shock.”

“Aisle Five M.”

“Heavy grease.” And so it went.

He reached the exit and the dolly scanned, but a clerk checked the contents by hand against the screen as well.

“You are working on a pool?” the man asked with a smile.

Damn, Elke’s good. “Yes,” he said. “Wealthy client up north.”

“Tessekur.” Thanks, in some dialect of Turkish.

“And you,” he said.

He loaded it into the truck, climbed in, and Elke asked, “Did you get it?”

“Yes. What’s next?”

“I will take the vehicle and engine store.”

He drove to it, she slipped out, and he sweated in tension. He stayed in the vehicle surreptitiously watching all angles. It was twenty minutes before she returned, and loaded more cartons in the bed.

Once in, she said, “I will not be able to fabricate at the compound. I will need a safehouse.”

“Jason has two. I’ll also be adding supplies.”

“Better equipped, more private, closer, are my needs, in that order.”

“Luckily one of them fits all that.”

“Good. I badly want caps and detonators, but I will have to improvise.”

“You aren’t going to try to buy some?”

“They are too obvious and they are alert here.”

She flipped open her phone and keyed it, voice only.

“Argonaut,” was the answer.

“We’re going to need a rest at the apartment. We’ll catch up later,” she said.

“Understood. Can you be back in fifteen hours?”

“Yes.”

Sleep well.”

She keyed off.

“Resting?” he asked.

“Manufacturing,” she said.

“I’ll do what I can to help.” Manufacturing explosives on a remote planet full of factional violence. That was a beer story.

It took several minutes to drive to the safehouse, and several more to find it, without being traced. Paper maps were secure, but often harder to read, especially in this poorly laid out ratmaze.

True to form, Highland didn’t really notice two substitutions in her escort. Horace really wondered just how many issues the woman had. Her anger, introversion, smugness, ego and greed were all indicative of any number of dysfunctions or disorders.

He was sure the backfills were competent. He even knew them slightly. He still would rather have the regulars. However, there was a promise of actual explosives when they returned.

JessieM was clearly shaken and nervous. She was holding up, but likely due to being a subordinate to Highland. On her own she’d be a wreck. If they were to cover her in an engagement, she’d need hands-on escort, and possibly carried. Mass around sixty kilos, he estimated. Doable.

Still, this evening’s mission was with limos. They’d roll from the compound, out the back gate guarded by a mixed force of Army and State with Cady monitoring both and gibbering in rightful paranoia at the potential risks. Once out, they would have an Army escort, this being one of the few official BuState meetings.

It went well enough. They’d tested weapons inside the garage, and the Army seemed to actually accept it, with grumbling. The gate was ahead, and he counted three Grumblies with mounted guns.

From the front, Bart said, “We have escort from respectable armies.”

“Yes. I’m glad to see them.”

Highland asked, “Who are they?”

“Brazilian troops in one, Finnish in the second, Kazakh in the third.”

“I like the Finns. They have such an earnest, hardworking culture. The Brazilians are very mixed and equitable.”

Alex said, “Yes. Though in this case, they’re good soldiers first.”

“Of course.”

Then they rose over the first speed hump and stopped.

Bart swore in German, threw the vehicle into reverse and tried to work it back.

Alex said, “We’re supposed to have sufficient clearance. What happened?”

Horace looked around. There were no apparent threats, but this was not good. He saw a camera crew outside the fence zooming in. They were exposed and stuck.

Bart said, “I believe the surface collapsed from the mass of heavy vehicles. The difference is enough, with our load, to cause this.”

“Will debarking help?”

“It is worth a try.”

“Right. Ms. Highland, please remain aboard.”

“Of course I will,” she said, sounding incredulous someone would expect her to walk.

“Lionel, stay with her. Everyone else out. Bart, I’ll drive.”

“Yes, sir.”

Horace bounced out and took another survey while breathing the clean air, tinged with exhaust next to the car. Bart took his frame out, Alex slipped in, and tried again. The car scraped and dragged, but made it over the hump. It shrieked over the next two. That got them outside the gate, though.

Horace jogged forward. The gates locked behind them, Bart resumed his position, and they all slid back in.

Highland looked offended.

“It seems no one cares about the dignity of my office,” she muttered loudly enough to be heard.

Alex had his phone out and was almost certainly demanding engineers fix those depressions at once. Whether military, BuState contract, local hires or several Company people with shovels, someone had to fix it fast. It was an accidental choke point, now revealed on camera.

“Shaman, radio link with the escort, please.”

“Radio, roger.” He grabbed the small encryption module and clicked it on. “Patent Three to Roller Six, over,” he said. The call signs were good. There were neither three nor six vehicles in either contingent.

“This is Roller Six, go ahead Patent Three, over.” If that was a Finnish accent, it was very interesting.

“Patent Three to Roller Six, please advise on weather, ongoing, over.”

“Clear, visibility at five zero, no storms. Expect light precipitation throughout, over.”

That translated as no current combat, no traffic snarls for five kilometers, but some traffic expected. They had a feed from State’s traffic scanners, and their own, and now the military’s.

“Understood, Roller Six. Patent Three listening, out.”

“Roller Six listening, out.”

Of course, all the OPSEC was for naught with JessieM churping away.

She spoke to Highland. “Ma’am, we’re getting churpcades all along. The crowd should be drastic.”

“Good.”

Alex said, “I thought this was a private meeting?”

“The meeting, yes, but I always like to make time to greet the people who matter.”

Horace watched his quarter. At this point, everyone with any kind of node access knew where she was. It was irritating. Could they arrange to exclude Jessie?

He was most nervous when they slowed, though they never quite stopped. The military vehicles used sirens and PA to keep the way clear. This was one of the more prosperous areas, only fifty years out of date, or three centuries ahead of Celadon. The buildings were extruded concrete with little variation save size, featureless overall. The people were apparently mostly of the conservative Muslim sects, in robes and headgear. Though as they traveled the peoples’ appearance grew more western.

“Patent Three, this is Roller Six, over.”

He raised the small box and said, “This is Patent Three, go ahead, Roller Six, over.”

“Arriving in nine zero seconds, over.”

“Understood, Roller Six. Thanks for the ride, out.”

“Anytime, Patent. Roller Six out.”

Horace was out first, followed by Lionel and Corcoran. Highland and Jessie stepped onto the walk, and Alex and Jason filled in the rear. Bart would stay in the vehicle.

There wasn’t a lot of attendance outside. This was a basic, boring policy meeting, and there was no reason for it to be public, nor even face to face. Diplomats and politicians liked their formal traditions, though.

It was anticlimactic. They strode in through a cordon of guards, all with beards and bushy mustaches. A wave of cool, dry air washed over them as the doors opened. There was a receiving line, and they parted so Highland could shake hands with dignitaries. An usher appeared and led them to a waiting area with sandwiches, water and soft drinks, and they weren’t even asked to disarm.

They had a choice of vids, and the locals and some of the other details seemed absorbed. The Ripple Creek team mostly stood, snacked lightly, and kept to themselves, while following news and updates. They could see Highland, though it was amusing to know that image was sent to a satellite and back even though they were perhaps a hundred meters away. JessieM sat back with other escorts, associates, factota and significant others. He caught a brief glimpse of her churping away.

Jason said, “I’d like to hear from our other contingent.” He meant Aramis and Elke.

Alex nodded. “Babs pinged a note. They’re still working.”

“Good, that was my concern.” He looked relieved.

Lionel said, “You guys operate seamlessly. You’ve been at this as long as we have, yes?”

Horace said, “About the same. We started when the company first got launched, when the military deployed to Salin and needed protection for diplomats.”

“This is much more interesting than facilities. Apart from occasional device threats and rockets, we have a consistent routine, or else it means something’s gone east.”

“This is a quiet one so far. I’d like it to stay that way. You noticed the baggage we have?” He meant JessieM of course.

Lionel nodded. “Yes, that’s inconvenient. We were advised to extend all courtesies.”

“Yes. It’ll get settled on the tab afterward.”

Lionel sipped his drink and faked watching the screen. “That’s hard for you to deal with, though, I presume.”

“Hard enough. We have ROE to cover it.”

“I’m interested in more of that.”

Horace grinned. “It pays a little better, but it’s not routine.”

“Yes, I know. I don’t particularly crave adventure, but it’s something I want to pursue.”

He wanted to offer something positive, even though this was just time-wasting chatter. “Well, good luck. We don’t seem to want for business. You’re steady and seem mature.”

“Thanks. Any antics you can share?”

“We stayed in a cave off a mine once, on Govannon. Carved rock, shelf bunks, vacuum-evacuated toilet. It was big enough for one and we had seven. Porn on the walls, processed worm meat and stabilized rice to eat.”

Lionel grinned. “Wow. That’s something we don’t get on the perimeter. The worms weren’t optional?”

“No. Chewy, a bit like squid, but beefy tasting.”

“And now I know.” He chuckled, but seemed put off as well.

Two hours later they embarked, convoyed and returned. Lionel looked amused rather than bored, and still paid attention to his threat sector.

So far, this was mission was aggravating, but quiet.